


she's got you high (and you don't even know yet)

by evewithanapple



Category: Hanna - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/pseuds/evewithanapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans and animals don't have that much in common, but there are some practices that cross between the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she's got you high (and you don't even know yet)

Sophie makes her happy.

That, in itself, is not surprising. Lots of things make Hanna happy. Her father reading to her makes her happy. The wolf puppies who are born near their house every spring make her happy. Being praised for doing well on a hunt makes her happy.

What puzzles her about Sophie is the _type_ of happiness she feels. It’s not like any of the others. Being read to makes her feel content, but that’s not it, though it does bear some resemblance. It’s sort of similar to the way the puppies make her feel- all warm and light- but that’s not it either. Being praised for a good hunt makes her feel proud, and she does feel proud- or something like it- when Sophie laughs and says “you’re funny” without any judgement or revulsion. But that’s not it either.

Hanna isn’t familiar with the way people talk to each other, really, but she knows that the best way to learn is to observe. So that’s what she does. She perches on the side of the street and watches people walk by, certain that eventually she’ll see something that will solve this strange new mystery of _feeling_.

Of course, one does. It takes awhile, but Hanna knows how to be patient while waiting for your prey- or in this case, your example. Some of the people walking by smile at her, and she smiles politely back, wondering what it is that they’re trying to communicate. People smile so often here, but it doesn’t seem to be for any reason she can tell. After the third couple holding hands walks by, the light finally goes on over her head. That was it! She wants to hold hands. And holding hands, from what she can tell, is how mates communicate affection in this odd, human way. She’s found a mate, the way the wolves went in pairs, and the way her father had been mated to her mother. That makes sense.

The problem is, she doesn’t really know how people go about telling their new mates that they’re, well, _mated_. Her father told her all about the mating habits of various animals, like the birds and the foxes and the whales (what are “testicles,” anyway? He never explained) but he never told her how people go about forming pairs. The closest he ever got to explaining that was telling her that her mother had been very frightened and lost when he found her, but that still doesn’t explain how they ended up mated. She’s seen wolves mate- usually the male climbs on top of the female and that’s it- but that doesn’t seem right, somehow. People don’t seem to do that, at least not right away. So the best plan she can come up with- short of simply going up to Sophie and asking “Would you like to be my mate?-” is following a different animal pattern. She knows lots of those. Satisfied with this plan, she stands up and walks back to the caravan to begin her plan.

* * * *

She knows from reading about and watching birds during mating season that the male of the species will try and make himself look impressive so that the female will notice him. She’s not a male, but she is the one trying to get Sophie’s attention, so she figures the basic principle is the same. Male peacocks will flaunt their tail feathers to show how bright they are, and red-breasted robins puff up their chests so that the female robin will notice them. Hanna doesn’t have feathers, but she’s seen how people make themselves pretty to get others to notice them. Women will put paint on their face and fingers, and dress in in bright, tiny clothes to try and get others to see them. Normally Sophie is the person she’d ask, since she seems to be the expert in these sorts of things, but it would spoil the whole plan if she did that. So instead, she wanders around the campground until she finds what she’s looking for. Three older girls, already painted, are sitting in front of their caravan and playing with a box of facepaints. They look bored. Hanna stops in front of them, and waits for one to notice. It doesn’t take long.

The biggest one looks up. “Can we help, you sweetie?”

Hanna smiles. One of the girls coos “Oh, she’s cute,” which isn’t quite what she’s aiming for, but it does seem to make them like her. “Could you make me pretty, please?”

Two of the girls burst out laughing, which rather hurts. It doesn’t seem like _that_ bizarre of a request- women here seem to enjoy grooming each other. Unless they’re laughing at the idea that making her pretty is possible at all, which is a worrisome prospect. The plainest ones of the species are always the last to find a mate, and never one of their choosing.

The older one hushes her friends with a look, then smiles gently at Hanna. “But you’re pretty already, love.”

Hanna shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Yes, but I’d like to be prettier. Like you are,” she gestures, “with the colours on your face.”

The other two are still snickering, but the older one is frowning now. “The colour on my- oh, you mean _makeup_!” she exclaims. “Of course I can. Here, sit down and we can get started.”

It’s a strange experience, but not an altogether unpleasant one. There’s a lot of sitting still involved, but Hanna knows very well how to sit still, so she has no trouble holding her face perfectly still while the girls apply glittery, coloured paint- make-up- to her eyelids, cheeks, and mouth. True, the sticks being poked at the corners of her eyes hurt a bit and the brushes being waved over her face tickled and it was irritating that she couldn’t reach up and scratch it. But she’d endured far worse. And the girls seems to be having a lovely time painting her, all chirps and giggles and smiles. The oldest one sits behind her and combs her hair, which hurts quite a bit at first, but becomes soothing after the knots were unravelled. One of the others sits on the ground and applies more make-up to her toenails, and the third is in charge of decorating her face.

“Why do you want us to make you over?” asks the one working on her feet  “Couldn’t you ask your mum?”

“I haven’t got a mum.” Hanna says, which elicits soft “ _ooh_ ” sounds from the girls and a pat on the shoulder from one. “I want someone to think I’m pretty, and pretty people have pa- make-up.”

“Ahhhh, a _boy_.” says one knowingly. “Young love. It’s so sweet.”

“No,” Hanna corrects her. “A girl.”

The smiles fall from the older girls’ faces, and Hanna wonders if she’s done something wrong. The one painting her face says gently “You know, she might not-“ but a look from the oldest makes her fall silent.

“I’m sure she’ll think you’re lovely.” the oldest girl says firmly.

* * * *

It’s dark by the time Hanna makes her way back to the caravan, almost time for dinner. She feels a bit bad for not spending the day with Sophie like she usually does, but she thinks that the end result will make up for a few days lost. Rachel- who encourages them to explore on their own, and thus doesn’t object when they’re gone all day- is turning meat over the fire while the others sit at the table. Sophie is there too. Hanna quickens her step.

Rachel half-turns, saying “Oh Hanna, we thought you’d be late-” before stopping mid-sentence to stare. Sophie’s brother is staring, too. So is her father. As for Sophie, her jaw is dangling slack, and Hanna feels a surge of pride.

“Some older girls helped paint my face.” Hanna explains. “Do you like it?”

Rachel is the first to recover, and she smiles. “You look very pretty, Hanna.” She glances to the table. “Doesn’t she, dear?”

The men both nod. Sophie, whose mouth is still hanging open, takes a moment to close it before replying, a bit breathlessly, “ _Yeah_.”

Her plan is working.

* * * *

The second step is one that she’s seen both people and animals engaging in: bringing gifts. Of course, animals of all stripes practice this: bringing home food to show that they can provide for a family, and thus will make a good mate. People don’t seem to engage in this particular practice- after she brought back that rabbit, Rachel gently explained that they get their food elsewhere- but they _do_ bring gifts. She’s seen Sophie’s father arrive back from some mysterious place when they’re parked for a day and present Rachel with a bracelet or book or some other thing that makes her smile and kiss him. Hanna figures it’s not that different a practice, only bringing gifts seems to make the other person even happier than food would, and she does want to make Sophie happy.

The only difficulty is, she’s not quite sure what gift she should bring. Food, after the talk with Rachel, is out. Books? She doesn’t know the first thing about them, and even if she did, she doesn’t know if Sophie would want one.  The safest choice seems to be a bracelet. Sophie likes bracelets. Sophie gave her a bracelet, so it must be something people do. Her father sometimes gives her mother bracelets, and she seems to like it, so Sophie probably will too. And the best part is, she knows where she can get one.

Most people seem to acquire things through a sort of barter system, where they give handfuls of paper or little round pieces of metal to whoever has the goods they want, and they receive the item in return. Hanna has neither paper nor metal, but she does know how to make bracelets. It’s a skill she picked up by herself, without her father’s input- probably he wouldn’t have been pleased if he knew, since it was time spent not acquiring more valuable knowledge, but it was fun. She takes several handfuls of grass- back at home, it was usually twine or cut-off bits of hair- and twists them together until they make a smooth cord, with only a few little threads poking out, then pulls the two ends together and ties them into a knot. She knows a lot of knots. For this one, she uses a figure-eight. She knows from experience that it’s the kind that doesn’t come untied, and she wants this bracelet to last. Sophie’s wrist is a bit thicker than hers’, but she tests it by tying it around her upper arm before she’s satisfied that it will fit properly. For a finishing touch, she takes the last of the foot makeup that the older girls gave her- a mostly-empty bottle with some still sloshing around the bottom- and paints a broad purple stripe around the outside of the bracelet. Satisfied, she goes to find Sophie.

The other girl is sitting in the shade of the caravan, lazily flipping the pages of what looks like a book, but slimmer and shinier. Hanna drops to sit cross-legged in front of her. “I brought you a gift.”

Sophie sits up, suddenly interested. “Really? What is it?”

Proudly, Hanna holds her creation out with one hand, having placed it in the centre of her palm. “It’s a bracelet. Like the one you gave me.” Anxiously, she watches for a reaction. What if she doesn’t like it? What if she thinks it’s ugly?

The other girl’s eyes light up. “Cool! she exclaims. Hanna isn’t sure what “cool” means, but it seems to be a good thing, because Sophie plucks the bracelet from her hand and slips it over her fingers and onto her wrist. “Did you make it? It looks neat.”

“Yes.” Hanna says simply, inwardly thrilled that her gift is so well-received. She takes a deep breath. Now is the time for the third step of her plan, and it may be the one where everything falls apart. “Sophie, would you like to be my mate?”

Sophie, who had been admiring the bracelet, looks up, confused. “But I thought we were already mates?”

“We are.” Now Hanna is confused. “Mate” must mean something different for people, something she hasn’t yet discovered. She’ll need another way of explaining herself. What other words are there for mate?

An idea occurs to her. Her last two ideas- the bracelet and the makeup- turned out well, so she thinks this one might as well. “I mean _this_ kind of mate.” And she leans forward and kisses her.

Kissing is something else she’s not quite sure of yet. She sees Sophie’s parents doing it, and she saw Sophie doing it with the older boy at the party, but it’s not something that it seems she can easily learn from watching. At its heart, though, it seems to be just putting two sets of lips together and separating after a short while. So that’s what she does. Then she sits back on her heels, and waits for Sophie to respond.

The other girl blinks. “Oh.” she says. “ _That_ kind of mate.”

“Yes.” Hanna says simply. “Will you?”

Sophie blinks. Blinks again, and shakes a fringe of hair out of her eyes. “I guess- I mean-" A shy smile crosses her face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Something swells inside Hanna, like a bubble rising up and lifting her off the ground and up into the clouds. "I'm glad." she says.

"I'm glad too." says Sophie. Then she leans in and kisses her back.


End file.
